The Deduction Games
by frenchthemagicllama
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is from District 3. John Watson is from District 12. An unlikely friendship forms between them during training, but only one can survive The Hunger Games.


**[The maths with the tesserae is probably wrong.]**

**Sherlock**

"Sherlock Holmes!"

I keep my face completely blank. I don't want to cause a scene like Destiny Smith had. When her name had been called, she'd wailed and screamed and held onto whatever she could to keep her from being dragged up to the stage. In fact, she's still crying. She's so pathetic that it's no wonder no one volunteered in her place.

What a ridiculous name Destiny is.

I walk up to the stage slowly, taking careful steps. I don't want to show the cameras any feelings whatsoever. I want to appear tough, give the tributes from other districts something to be scared of.

I hear a sob from the side. It's my mother. I risk a glance over. Her face is buried into Mycroft's shoulder as he looks on at me, emotionless.

I'm sure he's glad to be getting rid of me.

I'd pretty much accepted that the odds "weren't in my favour" when I signed up for tesserae. Not many in District 3 sign up for it. We aren't a rich district like District 1, but we aren't like District 11 or 12 either. However, my family has been struggling to keep a steady income after my father's death two years ago. I don't see food as a necessity but ever since, Mycroft has forced me to put my name down for each family member. Being 18 means that my name was in 28 times, at least 4 times more than most people my age.

As I said, the odds certainly weren't in my favour.

"Any volunteers?" calls Alexei Wakely expectantly. He'd been escort to District 1 previously. No one else is sure why he'd been downgraded to District 3 but I can tell it was a drinking problem. His hands are shaking slightly and I knew perfectly well that it wasn't nerves. He's having withdrawal symptoms.

Alexei Wakely is a ridiculous name too.

No one volunteers. It's understandable. No one likes me. They find my intelligence to be intimidating. I don't mind, most of them are too bleak for me anyway. Not that it matters anymore.

"No? Okay, well, come on up Sherlock and shake hands with Destiny!" Alexei smiles at me but he's clearly distracted. Alcohol must be on his mind.

Destiny gets up and shakily grasps my hand. I don't respond. Her behaviour disgusts me too much. Plus, I need to keep up the cold front. Tributes all over Panem are watching.

"And with that, folks, we bid you farewell and happy Hunger Games!" Alexei calls before herding Destiny and I into the building behind us.

When the door snaps shut, Alexei removes his arm from around us and whispers "What can someone do to get morphling around here?"

Morphling addiction. Of course. Now that I look closer, his skin certainly has a yellow hint to it.

There's always something I miss.

**John**

"John Watson!"

Effie Trinket is the most bizarrely dressed person I have ever seen. She's wearing a multicoloured dress patterned with diamonds and her hat is a horrible shade of – wait, did she just call my name?

"Um, John? Where are you?"

She did, didn't she?

My heart drops. My name was only in 28 times. I mean, sure that's a lot compared to some but equally as many others have their name in about 50 times. The odds were in my favour. Harry had refused to let me sign up for her despite mother and father's protests. My name could have been in another 7 times.

I'm certainly going to die. This is District 12. I'm completely untrained for the combat in the arena. In fact, I hardly think I'm up for the arena itself. I want to be prepared, though. I'm not scared by the idea of fighting others at all. In fact, if it wasn't for Harry and my parents, I wouldn't be that bothered by the fact that my name had been chosen, even if it does mean imminent death.

I think about all this as I make my way up to the stage. My fellow District 12 tribute is a 14 year old called Hazel. She's looking at the ground, clearly trying not to cry. I know she has about two sisters who could have volunteered for her but neither of them did.

Effie tells us to shake hands but Hazel doesn't move. Perhaps she didn't hear? I reach out for her, meaning to console her in some way through a handshake. The moment my hand touches hers she jumps and slaps me away.

"Well, we've got a fighter here, haven't we?" Effie calls as I rub my hand, startled. Effie is watching Hazel disdainfully. Clearly slapping someone doesn't match up with Capitol manners or whatever the hell she cares about. It sickens me slightly how she is more disgusted by me being slapped than the whole idea of The Hunger Games.

I look over the people before me. I see my family huddled together, clutching onto each other and crying. My heart plummets again. I don't want to leave them. I don't want to die and leave them to grieve. I only have one month left until I turn 19. I was so close to making it without being picked. So close...

"Happy Hunger Games!" Effie smiles at the camera and we're led off the stage. Before I know it, the doors have shut and my family are hidden from my view.


End file.
